On an Edge of Glass

schools?”
                  I squint, confused for a second.  “Yeah, I did actually.  I’m deciding between a school in New York and one in Boston.  But, that’s not my news.”
                  “Oh?”
                  I take a large gulp of air.  “Remember that flyer you gave me last month for the photography exhibit?  Well, I ended up submitting some of my photos.”
                  Ben takes a step closer.  “You did?  That’s great Ellie.”
                  “Yeah, thanks.  Ummm…  So, the thing about it is that my photographs were chosen and they’re going to be in the exhibit.”
                  His mouth drops open.  “That’s wonderful.  I’m really proud of you for putting your work out there.  I know that it’s hard.”
                  I shake my head.  “Well, I wouldn’t have done it if not for you, so thanks.” 
    “What pictures did you submit?”
    I chew on my bottom lip.  “Let’s just say that I took your advice.”
    Ben cocks his head.  “Oh yeah?  And what advice was that?”
    I lean back against the wall for balance.  “You told me to take photos of what I care about,” I say, stretching my fingers along my thighs.  Before Ben can ask me to clarify, I spit out the words that I need to say.  “And, I’d really like you to come, if you can.”
                  “Of course I’ll be there.  When is it?”  He hedges even closer to me.  My body tingles.
                  “Saturday night.”
                  “This Saturday?”
                  “Yeah, at the Pratt Gallery downtown from eight to ten.”
                  Ben pauses then he tucks his hair behind his ears and grins.  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
    Paper Promises
     
     
    Over the next week, I go through the gamut of emotions: excitement, dread, worry, frenzy, dreaminess.  You name it, I experience it. 
                  When I first came up with this implausible idea over a week ago, I wanted a lot of things, but there were so many obstacles that I wasn’t sure any of those things would actually pan out.  Now that wanting is meeting up with getting head-on, I’ll admit that I’m on the verge of a major freak out.  What if Ben shows up and sees my collection and he doesn’t connect the dots?  Or what if he does connect the dots and he still doesn’t want to be with me?
    Then what do I have?
    Rejection.  That’s what.
    It’s like this huge, dark cloud looming over me.  But, I’ve let that kind of fear control me before and I’m through with it.  It’s one of the ways that Ainsley says that I’m becoming a better person.  At least, that’s what she told me last night while we were in my room deciding how I should do my hair for the exhibit. 
    “You are,” she insisted vehemently as she twisted my hair back into a low chignon.
    I rolled my eyes.  “Well thanks.  I guess that after Columbia and everything else, it’s like, what do I have left to lose?”
    “It’s not that, Ellie.  You still have a lot left to lose,” she said with authority.   “But you’ve changed, and it’s for the better.  It’s almost like you’ve decided that you’d rather be scared and end up feeling kind of stupid than miss out on the good stuff.”
    I’ll admit that t his didn’t exactly provide me with a sense of comfort.
    T he exhibit is tonight.  Mark and I arrive downtown thirty minutes early so that I can go over final staging with Michaela and have my picture taken with the rest of the night’s featured photographers. 
    Mark parks his car in the back of the gallery between a dark green dumpster and a massive black pick-up truck with tinted windows.  Protecting my brand new high heels, I have to dodge a giant pothole that’s filled with mucky water and a handful of scattered, empty aluminum cans.
    “Could you have found a more terrible place to park?”
    Mark flares his nostrils.  “Sorry, but I didn’t get the memo that wearing high heels and a sexy dress transforms my best pal into a prima donna.”
    I glance down.  By either a stroke of stupidity, or one of genius, I am wearing Payton’s long-sleeved green dress—the same one that I wore the night that Ben and I fought.  I cringe.  “Do you think this dress was a mistake?”
    Mark stops walking.  “No, I don’t.   You